Star Wars: Subjugator
by Dunstin
Summary: Mandalore, once home to a proud society of warriors, lies in ruin after the Clone Wars. With the Galactic Empire occupying the planet, reconstruction finally seems possible. Agreeing on how to rebuild, however, is a war in itself. While Bo-Katan seeks to keep Imperial influence away, Gar Saxon sees opportunity in the Empire. Follows CANON timeline.
1. Chapter 1

**A short story on the fall of Mandalore into the hands of the Empire- basically filling in the gaps between the Clone Wars and Rebels. Written so that it would fit into canon if it were legitimized, just to give this work a more realistic, enjoyable read. This is based on CANON history, so all the Legends information about Mandalore will only be included in accordance to the story. Expecting ten-ish chapters, hope you enjoy!**

 **For my Naruto fans, the Itachi/Kisame story will come after this, sorry! This idea came into my head and just blossomed quickly, didn't want to waste it.**

 **I don't own Star Wars, please don't sue me Mickey Mouse.**

 **XXX**

 **Gar Saxon, Clan Saxon Household**

The heroes welcome was not there, and he had to admit that it was foolish to believe he could've expected anything like it. Nevertheless, it hurt him on a deeper level than he would've believed.

Tiber and Seals were standing out front the main door. Both had their helmets off and an ashen expression on their faces. Tiber's icy blue eyes narrowed as he dipped his head in acknowledgement to his brother. "Well?"

Gar shook his head, and Tiber's face solidified into a stony mask. "He's waiting inside for you." He did not offer any good luck; Seals looked away, his warmer blue eyes that would've filled Gar with more inspiration refusing to meet Gar's red ones.

He nodded curtly and hit the keypad, opening the millennia old durasteel door, splitting the emblem of the Saxon Clan down the middle. He pressed into the Clan Home, and immediately noticed how dim the lighting was. The great windows were open, but of course no light entered them. Whereas Mandalore's Sun often fed their broken homeworld light, the toxic fumes of war blocked it out today.

But not even the electrical lights bothered to fill in the darkness. Instead, primitive candles adorn with the Saxon crest hung from chains, casting orange light across the dusty wooden floors; some of the last natural wood Mandalore had once born, before the violent wars of their past had burned away all life outside the protective domes than even now enveloped the Saxon Household.

"Is that you, my son? My child, Gar Saxon?"

He immediately straightened and took his helmet off, holding it at hip's height. With one arm. In front of him, where the bright crimson carpet down the middle fed, the chair of the Saxon Clan Head stood on an elevated platform. In it, the single occupant of the Head himself sat.

"It's me, Father."

"Then come forward. Let me see you."

Aurelius Saxon was old, and that said something. Even when Duchess Satine had been in control and her repulsive pacifist doctrine had presided over all of Mandalore, the simple living conditions of Mandalore had often prevented many from progressing past sixty standard years of age. Yet, Aurelius had thus far lived to the age of fifty-nine, and showed no signs of wearing down. Even now, he proudly wore his gray and crimson Mandalorian armor, the dagger through the skull pronounced on an upgraded shoulder pad. Gar had not seen him for years, ever since he had decided to join Pre Vizsla's Death Watch.

Of course, Aurelius had not challenged this. Like his sons and the rest of the clan, they had years ago grown bored of wearing their armor only as symbols of the past.

As he knelt on a single knee before the Saxon Clan Head, Gar recalled their last conversation, before he and his brothers had fled. _"Once you leave, I will have to publicly renounce you," Aurelius had said, four years earlier his hair a much darker, healthier shade of gray, the wrinkles less pronounced. "Disgusting as she is, the Duchess's word is law. Death Watch breaks this law. For the sake of the Clan, I cannot openly approve."_

 _"But you do?" A younger Gar, the second youngest of his family behind Tiber and ahead of Seals, had always sought his father's approval. He could not have been sure he was hearing correctly. "If this endangers the clan-"_

 _"Your brothers and some other Clansmen are already making this choice," Aurelius had interrupted. "You must be firm in your choice. Once you have chosen it, you_ must _continue it, do you understand me?" He had sighed then, lifting a hand indicating Gar could in turn get up. "Clan Saxon's honor must be preserved, even in this dishonorable age. Perhaps with House Vizsla's aid, our proper glory can be returned."_

 _"Now go. Whatever you must do to bring us our glory, you will do it. Do you understand?"_

"You did not understand."

Gar Saxon gritted his teeth and lowered his head. As much as he had matured, hearing the sardonic disapproval in his Father's voice stung more than his brother's ignorance towards him. How long had he sought to be bring glory not only to the Saxon name, but to his hardened Father?

On his wooden throne, graced with petrified blossoms of long extinct plants, Aurelius snorted. "I told you four years ago to bring Clan Saxon, did I not?"

"You did, Father."

"Then where, pray tell, is that _HONOR_?" He shouted the last word, and Gar froze. Aurelous's feet slapped against the wooden floor as he stood up from the throne and began to pace around his son, and Gar continued to look down at the crimson carpet that matched the color of his scarred armor. "What were you _doing_ out there, boy? Playing soldier?"

"I joined Death Watch-"

"That was what you told me, yes! You, Tiber, and Seals, as well as many of our clan! And when Vizsla was killed by the alien called Maul-" Aurelius seemed to forcibly contain his anger, Gar hearing the gnarled hands rub against each other like snakes in a pit. The Saxon Head growled deep in his throat before he spoke again. "Seals had the sense to break away with Clan Skyrze, giving me the chance to preserve our honor. You and Tiber joined the _Shadow Collective_... a gang of criminals!"

Gar was never one to remain silent when being attacked, whether physically or verbally. "According to our traditions, Pre Vizsla was killed by Maul in mortal combat," he snapped, lifting his head and making Aurelius stare down at him with disgust. "By all rights, Maul was the next, true leader of Mandalore! Bo-Katan had no right to revolt-"

 _"Giving Mandalore to an OUTSIDER?"_ Aurelius Saxon began to pace again, shaking his head vehemently. The red glow of the candles blurred his face into a nightmarish vision that reminded Gar of his childhood training, of forcing himself to overcome his fears through brute force. Sometimes, those memories persisted, though usually he was able to choke them down.

His Father laughed cruelly. "Perhaps letting you join Death Watch so early in your years was a mistake. But then again, Seals- the _youngest_ \- had enough sense to retain loyalty to what Mandalore really is!"

"Tiber stayed," Gar said bitterly.

It was the wrong thing to say. Aurelius grabbed a fistful of Gar's blond hair and pulled it up. It seemed ridiculous, the old man holding the powerfully built, proud young Mandalorian so dominantly, but through the pain, through the grip, Gar ironically felt he knew why his Father had retained Clan leadership for so long.

"Your brother stayed," Aurelius whispered in his ear, making Gar's skin crawl. "Until Maul's powerbase was destroyed by the Confederacy and Republic both! Criminal power that dared to taint the Saxon name, destroyed in mere days. I could not feel more relieved to hear the news. There was _nothing_ going for him, a galactic outlaw with no power to stake to the title of Mandalore. Tiber had enough sense to then, _finally_ , return home."

"But not you. Not you, you _idiot_ boy." Aurelius thrust Gar's head back down in the sign of submission, and there Gar stayed, feeling the sting of his Father's touch and words like multiple blades piercing his century-old armor. Anger engulfed him, and still he spoke out.

"Not completely destroyed," Gar said defiantly. "We came back- _I_ came back. If the Republic hadn't gotten involved, we would have won!" He glowered down at the floor, not daring to look up at Aurelius. "I would have brought glory to the Saxon name. I would have earned myself honor, perhaps a position in the new government that would've arisen. You would have been my advisor, Tiber and Seals leaders of a new army of refined, potent Mandalorians!"

He ran out of breath, and he felt surprised his Father had not interrupted him so far. Just when he began to suspect Aurelius might have actually been stunned into silence, the other spoke.

"'If.' If you had succeeded." Aurelius sighed again as he walked back to his throne and slunk into it, his armor clacking against the stone. Gar felt more guilt in the muted disappointment than the angry shouts.

"Maul is gone, and that means there is nothing more for you with him. So at last, you have returned to your Clan. The sole Saxon still serving with the false Mandalore, and now you've returned. Do you feel my disbelief now, Gar?"

He did, but he did not say anything.

"Tiber and Seals acquired power after all in the new government, miraculously. Bo-Katan was kind enough to give us representation as she rebuilds us from the destruction of the Clone War."

"In the wake of... the _Empire_."

Aurelius's sardonic tone returned. "The Galactic _Empire._ Ridiculous... but these are ridiculous times. I suppose after everything that has happened to our world over the past years, this shouldn't be any more surprising. To think that after the war our ancestors fought to end the Republic, it was defeated by _itself_." Aurelius chuckled, seemingly forgetting Gar was still knelt submissively before him. "Ridiculous..."

"What would you have me to, Father?" Gar asked, resisting the urge to look up.

His Father laughed again. "You will accompany Tiber and Seals tomorrow. We will see if Kryze will have you punished as a traitor, or welcome a warrior back to Sundari."

Gar looked up, not sure if he should say what he was feeling. The look of indifference upon Aurelius's face, however, all but answered it.

 _He doesn't care if I live or die anymore. Because I failed to bring us glory._

Aurelius waved a hand to his son, signaling he could rise at last. "Your old room is ready for you, whether for one night or for the years to come. Enjoy it while you can. Your brothers will escort you to Sundari an hour after the Sun rises." The old man's face twisted into a thin smile. "Then again, I can't really tell when it rises with all that smoke of yours in the air, can I?"

 **XXX**

To his Father's credit, he did not have any guard stay outside his room that night. If he could have wanted to, Gar could've donned his armor, activated his jetpack, and fled to escape his potential fate.

Somehow, he felt that his Father almost intended for him to do that, so that he could tarnish the Saxon name even more. The conspiracies and possibilities filled his head like the choking smoke that hung about Sundari, from the Republic's siege.

He should have guessed long ago that Maul did not care for Mandalore in a way the rest of them did. His father was right; Maul _was_ an alien, with no ties to the culture. Pre Vizsla would have made a truer, more potent Mandalore had he not been killed by the former Sith Lord. Vizsla had the ties, the passion, the warrior-mindset that would've given Clan Saxon real power and integrity. Perhaps Seals had been right to denounce Maul alongside Bo-Katan Kryze, to follow her words of, "No outsider would have rule Mandalore."

Without his armor on, he felt far more vulnerable to his doubts. He turned over and looked at it. Cracked, burned, and soiled, the ghosts of the Saxon's crimson color still clinging to the gray beskar alloy. Looking at it filled him with inspiration, and once again he considered escaping the Saxon complex.

But it would only bring his Clan more shame. Tiber, Seals, and the surviving clansmen who had originally joined Death Watch and the Collective had done all they could to restore the Saxon's name. When Seals had returned, Saxon was able to throw claim that House Saxon sided with the "true Mandalorians." When Tiber, the oldest brother, had done the same after Maul's final defeat at Dathomir and returned to swear loyalty to Bo-Katan's growing movement, Aurelius could only further enhance the Clan's honor.

Still Gar had clung to Maul. Foolishly, he saw now. He cursed himself in Mando'a and Basic, and turned away from the armor to stare at the wall.

 _He doesn't trust me to bring us honor anymore_ , he thought with calm resignation. _I had my chances to come back and retain our honor in his eyes. Now, it's up to Tiber and Seals to do it. I mean nothing to him or the rest of the Saxon's anymore._

A new decoration caught his eye, one he handed noticed when he'd first entered and flung himself onto the simple cot. His room even as a child had never borne more than the simple basics one might have. His gaze took the shape of the blue color, watching it rise up in the shape of a banner to the top of the ceiling. This struck him odd; their clan color was a deep red.

The Saxon crest did not lie in the center. Instead, the black and white circle of the Galactic Empire was centered in, a fresh intruder in his own room.

 _Soon to be an intruder to all of Mandalore_ , he thought stiffly. He sat up in the darkness, blinking his pale silver eyes to adjust. The Imperial insignia, a white core with six lances of light stretching out from it, grew clearer, almost glowing. He eyed it with distrust. _It's the Republic. Even Vizsla was against allying with them._

 _And look where that got him._

Gar Saxon didn't want to die. He knew that he would not be given such a quick, warrior-like end as Vizsla had received. He didn't want to end up like Vizsla at all, however great and true a Mandalorian he had been. Dying here on his homeworld...

Tiber had some off-world experience, when he and Gar had served with Maul. Seals had none, and he suspected Bo-Katan had none either. Not many Mandalorians had survived the Siege of Mandalore on Maul's side either, meaning there was a sharp decline in traditional Mandalorians...

A plan began to form in his mind as he took in the still banner of the Empire. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to turn things into his and Mandalore's favor.

When the knock on his door came in the passing hours, his brothers found him already dressed in armor, helmet held in his hands, and a strangely eager gleam in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**XXX**

 **Tiber Saxon, Hyperrail to Sundari**

"We won't put binders on you until we near the checkpoint," Seals said through his helmet, his voice digitized but filled with resignation. The way he had spoken about last night, Tiber knew that their younger brother had low hopes for Gar.

"Binders?" Gar questioned, a small flicker of doubt passing over his face. "Am I being given trial?"

"If you were anyone else, you would be," Seals said, his helmet during slightly to Tiber. Tiber had already placed his helmet on, finding comfort in it's presence around his head. He didn't especially care for Gar, who had performed foolishly being in charge. He couldn't fathom why Father had allowed Gar to take unofficial helm of the Saxon members in Death Watch- look where it had gotten them. He was glad that Father was finally giving him his _rightful_ place here.

Whether Gar died was irrelevant now. The Saxon name was already devalued, no matter what happened to him. It would be up to himself to make amends with the new Mandalorian government.

Seals was still talking, no doubt to soothe himself. "You were one of the faces of the Shadow Collective," he said slowly, his helmet still trained on Tiber. "Bo-Katan is excusing any activity with Death Watch, seeing as she was a former member herself. But the actions with the Collective are all deemed criminal, since Maul was a pretender-"

"He won the duel fair and square," Gar replied stoutly.

Seals continued as if he hadn't spoken; he always got emotional when that duel was brought up. "I think Bo-Katan wants to make an example of you, to show no dissent will be feasible. But if you prove your loyalty to the new government- and her- I think you'll be allowed to live."

"To the new government," Gar grumbled. He rubbed his wrists, as if already feeling the binders placed on. He glanced at his Mandalorian helmet, once belonging to their esteemed ancestor Borrum Saxon before turning to face Sundari. "They're being pocketed by the Empire. We all are, I know it."

"How?"

"I just do."

 _Perhaps,_ Tiber thought. _Or perhaps it's a new ground for opportunity. Peace has reached Mandalore, and with the aid of a new galactic government, perhaps we can bring this to our favor._

"Let's put the binders on you, Gar," Tiber said stoutly, moving from the rail to his brother. Gar looked up at him, but through Tiber's mask nothing could be viewed. It was a benefit Tiber loved about the helmet- the only thing he did, in fact. His own armor belonged to one of their clan's vfounders, Sov Saxon, and he hated the fact that when his fellow clan members gazed upon it, they saw only that history, not the man wearing and bringing fresh glory to the armor. _I'll carve history with the Empire_.

Gar gingerly raised his wrists and Tiber slapped them on without pause. Without giving a word to Gar, he stepped over to the hovercar controls, where two clone troopers stood silently, having given no indication hey had even listened to the exchange. "Seals and I will bring our brother to the trial, there is no need for you to accompany us," Tiber said to them.

The white helmets barely stirred. "Our orders are to bring the prisoner in with you."

" _I_ outrank you," he replied firmly, pointing to the ceremonial plaque on his right breastplate that denoted him a member of the government.

"Colonel Moore outranks _you_ , sir," the left clone said with the smallest hint of ridicule. "He gave us our orders. We will accompany you and Gar Saxon to the hearing."

Tiber's lip curled. _You'll be listening to me sooner or later._ Instead, he rapped his knuckles against the breastplate of the clone's armor. "Nice armor," he said snidely instead. "Looks good appropriate for warriors- well, warriors who aren't Mandalorian. That's your natural disadvantage, I suppose."

"The clone template came from a Mandalorian," the right clone said a little gruffly.

"So fake Mandalorians," Tiber laughed digitally. He turned away from them. "Don't try to justify yourselves. Just bring us in to Sundari safely."

But as he walked back to Gar and Seals, he couldn't resist looking back at the glistening clone trooper armor. Certainly it didn't look very sporting, but with a few tweaks, he imagined it would look rather nice. _And no history on it but my own... interesting._

 **XXX**

 **Tiber Saxon, Sundari Palace Throne Room**

Sundari's throne room seemed darker than he recalled. The last time Tiber had been inside was during the brutal duel between the freshly christened Mandalore Pre Vizsla, and the Sith beast Darth Maul. Of course, Vizsla had lost, and Tiber could remember Seals donning his helmet alongside Bo-Katan and swearing that Maul could never truly become leader. Tiber had shot at his brother deliberately, not out of a desire to prove loyalty but something... well, it hadn't bothered him then, and he rarely questioned it now.

The windows were drawn shut. The throne that both Vizsla and Maul had sat in was draped in a simple blue mourning cloth that was steadily gathering dust. _Such a waste_ , Tiber thought as they walked deeper into the room. Temporary chairs had been set about the room for the trial's attendees; the judicial hall the Duchess Satine had created had been destroyed in the Siege. Stormtroopers lined the walls, as did a small smattering of the old Mandalorian Honor Guard that had once protected the Duchess. No one yet sat in the chairs, giving the room a barren look.

Gar walked between Seals and himself, a clone trooper in front and behind. A small smirk was on Gar's face, and Tiber grinned beneath his helmet with amusement. _Let me guess- you were the one to destroy the Hall, brother?_

"Gar Saxon!" Tiber quickly snapped to attention and halted in tune with Seals, the clones and Gar a second behind. Bo-Katan Kryze, orange hair down to her shoulder blades, dressed in her light blue Mandalorian armor in accordance with the colors of both Death Watch and House Vizsla. She ascended towards the throne but stopped several feet in front of it as the room's occupants entered. Tiber eyed Prime Minister Almec, who had weaseled his way out of charges and was perhaps loathed even more by Gar right now. Behind him was Colonel Moore, thin, dark-skinned, piercing blue-eyes drinking in the architecture of the throne room as he always did. His eyes seemed to find Tiber and he gave a small nod of acknowledgement before following Almec and the other members of government to their respective seats facing Bo-Katan.

Gar's smirk seemed to grow despite the resentment in her voice. "Bo-Katan!" he called. "Fancy seeing you here- Regent, I hear? How befitting of someone-"

"Just stop talking, Gar. With a tongue like yours it'll only get you into more trouble." Bo-Katan waved a hand towards Tiber, Seals, and the clones. "Marshal Tiber, Councilor Seals, you may take your seats now."

Tiber got a glimpse of doubt flash across Gar's face as she said their names; _thought we wouldn't have a hand in your execution, brother? Family only goes so far, I'm afraid._ Tiber drifted to his seat at the far left end, three seats away from Almec. Seals sat more towards the middle on the right side. The title of "Councilor" seemed so unbecoming of a man wearing the warrior armor of Mandalore, but Moore's snide suggestions on Mandalore's "uncivilized" government had eventually coerced Bo-Katan into installing officious, if insulting, ranks among the government. Tiber had had to fight for the rank of Marshal, a mix between weakness and strength.

The clone shoulders shoved Gar to the front of the room, still bound in his binders. His confidence was back, and he looked at Bo-Katan with an undaunted gaze from his icy gray eyes. "I will not be silent when I have much to speak about," Gar said defiantly.

"Your fate has been decided-"

"Then why convene a court?" he retorted. "Why bring the good Colonel and these others this far out?"

"Perhaps, Gar Saxon, if you had the intellect, you would realize you've committed treason," Almec said in the front, turning to face Gar. Tiber watched with some amusement, but also respect. Almec was far more an administrator than a warrior of Mandalore, but Tiber had learned one invaluable thing from the former Prime Minister, and it was that words could hold just as much power as a blaster. "You openly collaborated with the alien Maul to bring down the Mandalorian government and spread crime to the planet!"

"So did you!" Gar snarled back. "You were made his figurehead-"

"And I repented as soon as he was gone, knowing how much wrong I had done," the other said snidely, giving Bo-Katan a courteous bow of the head which she did not return. Tiber knew that she hated Almec for his corrupt past as much as every other Mandalorian present. "I realized who the _real_ leaders of Mandalore were, and I swore my allegiance to them as quickly as I could."

Gar cocked his head. "To Bo-Katan, you mean?"

There was something about Gar's voice that made Tiber frown. _What are you planning here, brother? Planning to drag Almec down with you?_

The other seemed unperturbed. "Of course," he sniffed.

"So not to the Empire."

Almec flinched, and he quickly stated, "Of course to the Empire- too. Bo-Katan is simply the instituted regent-"

Gar delibertly turned away from Almec to face Bo-Katan again. "My lady, I have seen the error of my ways, perhaps later than others," he said, his head bowed, manacled hands steadied to his armor's waist. "But I still wish to contribute to rebuilding a proper Mandalore, with the aid of our new Galactic Empire, who can provide us with opportunities we did not have before. My whole reason for siding with Maul was his vast access to contacts and resources which could've made our planet a thriving place once more. I truly did not believe that Mandalore with the Republic's help would progress anymore than it had without it."

He deliberately turned to look at Colonel Moore, who was too far away for Tiber to see properly. Nevertheless, he smiled. _You're going to play this card, then. Maybe I'm not the only one who took a leaf out of Almec's book._

"With the Empire aiding us, however, I can finally pit myself with you. To rebuild our planet."

Bo-Katan eyed him down with her piercing green eyes. Tiber had the feeling she was trying to look inside him, to gauge his sincerity. Tiber himself couldn't tell how much his brother was lying or telling the truth. _He's definitely lying about wanting to stay with Maul for the resources; there was true loyalty there. But wanting to help Mandalore... it makes sense. And it's a convincing argument._ He looked to Kryze. _So what say you, Regent?_

"Only a few weeks ago you fought against myself and the Republic during the Siege of Mandalore," Kryze said, her eyes narrowed and voice filling the room. "When Maul was captured and your force collapsed, it was only then you gave yourself up to your Clan. I do not believe you are loyal to Mandalore, Gar Saxon. Only to whoever can give you the best chance for promotion."

Gar seemed taken aback, then his face twisted. "If you truly believe that, then execute me now," he hissed. "I have _always_ had Mandalore's best intentions at heart, no matter where the popularity lied. Remember Death Watch, Kryze-"

"I remain unconvinced, Gar Saxon," Kryze said flatly, crossing her arms across her breastplate. "Your plea has been heard, and now I am rejecting it. You will be publicly executed tomorrow for-"

"Well let's wait a moment here, Regent Kryze." Tiber looked down the chairline; Colonel Moore had stood up, and was now waling towards Kryze. A few mutters wafted through the room; it was entirely irregular to interrupt the leader when making judgement. _You have much to learn about our culture, Moore,_ Tiber mused. _Then again, I almost can't blame an outsider for not understanding our ways._

"Colonel? Bo-Katan forced out, sounding immensely irritated. "What are you-"

" _I_ believe Gar Saxon's account here," the other said, his voice deep and rich with a Core world accent. He stopped right beside Kryze, standing a few inches shorter than her but proudly displaying himself. "I believe he has the best intentions at heart here; his desire to help the Empire help Mandalore should not be ignored simply because of his past."

"And _I_ am making the judgement here, Colonel Moore," Bo-Katan said quietly.

"I'm overruling it." Moore waved his hands at the guards on the left wall. "Remove his restraints. I am declaring his innocence."

The Mandalorians did not so much as flinch, but the clone soldiers moved forward towards Gar and held his wrist gauntlet up, before removing the lock upon it. Tiber's younger brother rubbed his wrists much as he had done in the hyperrail, then looked to Moore and Kryze. "I thank you, Colonel Moore. I will make myself infinitely useful to both Mandalore and the Empire."

Moore gave a small smile. "Don't make me regret it."

Bo-Katan stood motionless, looking down to the top of Moore's close cut black hair. "If that's all, then," she said with thinly veiled venom. "Gar Saxon may return home or begin finding his place to... help. Everyone may return to their duties as needed."

She swept from the room, her guard falling in place behind her. Tiber stood up, a smirk on his face. _I suppose that's that, then. And she didn't have the stomach to oppose Moore._

"Gar!" Seals came forward and gathered Gar in a hug in the center of the room as the clone troopers drew away. Their armor clacked together, but Seals looked unashamed by the open affection. "I knew you would be able to prove your innocence!"

Tiber snorted. _That's not what you were saying last night._

"It didn't take much; I only needed to show my sincerity," Gar replied as Tiber finally walked over. He turned to Tiber, and his eyes lost some of their relief. "We need to talk. You and I."

Seals smile lessened as well, but Tiber only nodded. He had had a feeling he would be the one who Gar came to. "If you insist. I knew just the place... how about my office?"

 **XXX**

 **Regent Bo-Katan Kryze, Private Quarters**

Her guards escorted her up into the palace, stopping respectfully outside her door. She did not need to speak to them; they had served with her in Death Watch, followed her out when she'd rebelled against Maul, and fought with her alongside her with the Republic in the Siege. They were as close as friends as she could imagine, and at the same time she knew very little about them. This did not bother them, however. To the core, they remained soldiers, following their orders to the tee, their loyalty to her and Mandlore unruffled.

The door to her room opened and she entered, leaving the two on respectful watch until she would reemerge. That would be very soon; she only needed a few minutes here.

It was the room her sister Satine had used when she was Duchess, and the same one where her murderer Maul had slept. Both instances filled her heart with a thunderstorm of regret and hatred, but at the same time she enjoyed the challenge of keeping herself contained.

 _Moore understands nothing._ _Not our needs, not our customs... and most of all, not Gar Saxon._

She had made only two changes to the room since she'd moved in two weeks ago; the removal of the original bed in place of a new, simpler one, and the addition of a Loronar industrial-class communication array that gave her instantaneous communication throughout the entire Mandalorian system on a private frequency only she and a handful of others had access to.

Today, she was speaking to two of those people. She activated the comm and waited for them to respond. As it turns out, both had been waiting for her to make contact; she had alerted them to the trial that would happen today, voicing her concerns. At the end of last night, they had been as grim as she was, and she imagined now their reactions would be the same.

She was right.

"Moore intervened in the trial? Does he not understand outsiders are merely _guests_ in this equation?" Fenn Rau asked, sounding shocked. The pair had had a very rocky beginning; the man had hated Death Watch and everything it'd represented, but he was equally not fond of the Empire. So far he had kept the moon of Concord Dawn out of Imperial hands, but his heart belonged to Mandalore itself. It was this desire to help his planet from afar that had led him to temporarily cast aside his dislike for her, now that she ruled Mandalore as regent. Still, she had the feeling Rau wasn't full aware of how different the Empire was from the Republic, and thus his advice was more opinion than practical to her.

She nodded to his perfectly delayed, foot tall hologram on the black comm board. "He stated it as if his world was final; I wasn't about to challenge him so early on in the Empire's rule here. I need to establish a good track record before I can start pushing on things like this."

"It was a trial, and of a warrior at that!" Rau snorted. "If kissing the shined boots of Moore is your idea of starting a good track record, then-"

"Calm yourself, Rau," said Primir Wren, his hair grayed but eyes alight with an inner fire. He was the apart of the generation to fight in the last great war, before Satine had introduced pacifist reforms. However, unlike many other veterans, the war had made him throw in with Satine's efforts. The fire in his eyes burned not with a passion for violence, but with the same genuine passion for the planet Bo-Katan did. Unlike Rau, however, his experience allowed him to be an actual advisor.

Rau remained tense. "The man has no right to interfere in our ways. It's the type of interference I've been worried about."

"The Republic wouldn't have done this," Wren agreed, fingering his smoothed, wrinkled chin. "These are uncomfortable times. Moore is new to command; the sudden disappearance of the Jedi from command alongside the Republic makes _everything_ unusual. Perhaps we are going to see a much more interventionist government now."

Bo-Katan sighed. "They're afraid of something like Death Watch returning, no doubt."

"Or anything resembling the old Mandalore," Wren said grimly. "One well-trained Mandalorian is worth a hundred of these clone troopers. No doubt the Empire is wary of this." His hologram crunched his right hand together. "Their grip on the Outer Rim isn't very stabalizied; the Confederacy still had holdouts, I'm hearing. Having a thorn like Mandalore would greatly slow them down-"

"As we rightfully should," Fenn Rau snorted. "With men like Gar Saxon in government, collaborating with the Empire, I would all the more appreciate the Empire growing tired of Mandalore and leaving!"

Old Wren sighed. "That's not what I meant. If they their efforts were troubled... I believe they would more than anything desire a greater presence here." He stared through Bo-Katan with his wizened eyes. "Our only safety net here is you, Lady Kryze. You have the support of the people because of your affiliation with both the Duchess, who brought great peace, and Vizsla, who brought great honor. The Empire will need someone like you in charge if they want to keep things smooth."

Bo-Katan felt her hands clench at her side. "And what if I don't want things to be smooth?" she asked.

"Don't think selfishly," Wren said sharply while Rau nodded approvingly. "The Empire is in control now. Already I can see their iron hide, where the Republic was clay. If you are not in power to act as liason between them and the people, there is nothing for any of us."

"The Empire doesn't control Concord Dawn," Rau said flatly. "Don't obey the Empire, my lady. That is _my_ word."

"I will take everything you both have said into consideration," she said slowly. She suddenly felt very tired and overwhelmed, mostly by Primir's advocation of her being the go between the Empire and Mandalore. _How did you do it, Satine? I wish you were hear to answer my questions, too._ "Thank you both for your words. But what should be done about Gar Saxon?"

Rau's lip curled. "Arrange an accident. He's a traitor to-"

"His two brothers are apart of your high council, are they not?" Wren interrupted.

"They are, yes. They were present at the trial."

"Which do you trust more?"

"Seals," she said instantly. The youngest brother, like her guards outside, had followed her in the defection from Death Watch, and stayed loyal to Mandalore wholly. Tiber had returned only after Maul's defeat on Dathomir, and there was just something about the man she didn't like.

Wren nodded. "Ask him to keep track of Gar's motives and actions. They are of the same Clan, but if you can trust him fully, then he was your best chance for seeing what Gar Saxon is truly after."

"He's in it to save his own neck," Rau said angrily. "That is painfully obvious."

"Then we need the proof to show Moore so he can reverse his descision," Wren said with some exasperation. He bowed his head to Kryze. "I must return to my duties on Krownest, my lady. Good luck in your choices. Glory to Mandalore."

"Glory to Mandalore," Fenn Rau echoed, bowing his head reluctantly, no doubt wanting to speak more.

"Glory to Mandalore," she said wearily, then ended the connection with a closed fist on the power switch.


	3. Chapter 3

**XXX**

 **Gar Saxon, Sundari Throne Room Balcony**

He placed his gloved hands on the thin railing of the support rails, looking down onto Sundari's Royal Plaza. It was here Pre Vizsla had spoken to a horde of Mandalorian citizens, warriors, mothers, fathers, and children, proclaiming a new era of life. And to think only a few days later he himself would be dead, along with that hope for change. It made his teeth gnash with frustration. _We came so close, until Maul had to interrupt it all._

"Takes you back, doesn't it?" Tiber said conversationally. "Really awakens the old feeling. Death Watch, triumphant. Now look at us."

"I regret it."

"Siding with Maul?"

He shook his head. "Ever convincing Vizsla it was a good idea to team up with those monsters in the first place. The moment Vizsla died, we were all Maul's. There was never any leaving until he himself was killed."

"Or removed from power," Tiber agreed. "But even after then, you stayed with him."

"I was being a good soldier!"

"A good sellout," Tiber said remorselessly. "You were an idiot, and you're lucky Moore had your back here. You heard Kryze's mandate; you were going to be executed tomorrow. The trial was a sham; if anything, she only did it to bring yourself humiliation."

Gar shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe Moore interrupted her judgement. Does he not know, or does he not care?"

Tiber shrugged his armored shoulders. "Probably both. It's become very clear they're tolerating Kryze only because she was the designated Regent under the Jedi generals during the last days of the war. It just became simple to keep that situation, to avoid confusion. Her history with Death Watch no doubt causes some dissent on Coruscant, but there was little choice in the matter with so many members of the previous government dead. I wager their compromise was sending Moore to keep an eye on things here."

"What do you know about the colonel?"

"What do you want with him?" Tiber countered.

Gar sighed aloud. "You're no fool, Tiber. You've always been very aware of our surroundings, and adapting. Just like me. I can already see Kryze won't last, she's too rooted into our traditions, when the Empire clearly has no regard for them. They'll oust her, and then who will lead?"

His brother smiled thinly. "You?"

"Why not?" Gar replied with an equally cold smile. The two had always been rival, with Gar seeking to consistently gain the praise their father always gave to the eldest son. He could already see that Tiber was very amused, and it irritated him. "I've _seen_ the galaxy, Tiber. I know how it works, more than you. I also know how Mandalore works. Bo-Katan only knows the latter half, and that makes her incredibly vulnerable to the influence of an external power like the Empire. I just need to figure out how to exploit that vulnerability."

"While simultaneously bolstering yourself in the eyes of Moore?"

Gar smiled. "Close. He'll go as well."

The amusement faded from Tiber's face, and his pale blue eyes narrowed before he turned away to look down onto the plaza. "That's insane."

"Why?"

"Do you not listen even to yourself?" Tiber drawled. "Moore represents the Empire's power here, just as the clones represent it's force. Killing him will only bring another officer down on us, and who knows how he will be?"

"I know," Gar said with a twisted smile. "Because it's going to be you."

The older Saxon paused, then slowly turned back to face his brother. "Come again?"

"You. You're already Marshal, aren't you? The background is already present. We find a way to discredit Moore and prove your worth as a worthy planet-wide garrison commander."

"You make it sound so easy," Tiber said sardonically. However, he seemed to be taking it all very seriously. His left hand wrapped around his pointed chin and stroked it,while the right held loosely to his helmet. _Say yes, put our differences aside!_ Gar thought impatiently. _Say yes!_

The hand left the chin and pointed a finger back into the throne room. "And what about Seals?"

Gar blinked; he hadn't thought much about their younger brother, let alone that Tiber would bother remembering him. "He doesn't need to know about any of this," he decided. "When we come to power, we can give him a position he can do good from. He hasn't seen how the galaxy works; his idealism is high and that makes him loyal. He could become the face of the government."

"Perhaps," Tiber said indifferently. "I only brought him up because, as you said, he's loyal to Mandalore. To _Kryze_."

"Ah," Gar grunted, now understanding. "You think he'll betray us."

"Without a doubt."

"Disgusting," Gar muttered. "Has he no loyalty to family?"

Tiber gave a wry smile that helped Gar realize the irony of his phrase. "It's a grand plan, little brother. For now, though, we ought to find you a place in the current government to start your rise."

He nodded and moved towards the balcony's exit, but before he could open the door Tiber caught his shoulder deftly, making him wait a moment. "I just have one more thing to ask," the older Saxon intoned, sounding genuinely curious.

"What is it?"

"Are you doing this for yourself? Or because you think it's what's best for Mandalore? Or maybe you just want to bring honor back to Father and the Saxon name."

Gar shrugged, moving the hand off his shoulder. "Why not all three?"

 **XXX**

 **Tiber Saxon, Sundari's Imperial Command Center**

Tiber's first introduction to the Empire came in the form of the disappearance of Clan Darvwar a week after the arrival of Colonel Moore four days after the Declaration of the Galactic Empire. Their former leader, the calm Farqua Darvwar, had died in the siege, thus leaving the clan's leadership to the arrogant and proud Rufio Darvwar, who quickly challenged Moore and the Empire's legitimacy.

 _"Our deal was to the Republic, not the Empire!"_ he said at Moore's initial meeting. And the Colonel had given a simple, dismissive look, one which Tiber had had no idea could be so traumatic.

He said dissapeared very lightly. The truth of the matter was, as Kryze's declared Marshal over Sundari, his presence was required in Moore's actual briefing,t he one without all the House's and Clans, and involving only Bo-Katan's personal branch of government. He explained how he had been sent to prevent an insurrection like Death Watch, which had achieved galactic fame as an insurgency group the Republic seemed unable to pin down.

 _"Simply stated, I will not be playing the soft-handed games the Republic did,"_ Moore said, gazing at Tiber. _"I expect you and your men to be the same, Marshal. Is this understood?"_

 _"So what are you planning to do with Clan Darvwar?"_ Bo-Katan asked icily. She had, even from day one, acquired low respect for Moore, no doubt because of his recommendation all charges against Almec be dropped.

 _"They'll be made a planet-wide example of,"_ Moore said flatly. _"Marshal?"_

So Tiber Saxon's first mission with the Empire involved the extermination of the dome Clan Darvwar lived in, as well as all it's inhabitants. Clone soldiers and Mandalorian soldiers fought the Darvwar till the end, until Rufio shouted for surrender.

Which was rejected on the spot by Moore himself.

"The man would have made a fine Mandalorian, had he been born among us," Tiber explained to Gar as their hoverspeeder took them to Moore's HQ, the former Art Gallery of Scilia, one of the very first cities of Mandalore long blown to dust. Now, even the relics of that ancient civilization had been destroyed, having been decimated in the Republic's siege against Maul. "He's not stupid, to get right to the point. I know nothing of his previous assignment history in the war."

"He didn't fight in the Siege?" Gar asked, his blonde hair blowing about him. They kept their helmets in the back; the checkpoint's clones refused to let anyone wearing Mandalorian helmets inside for fear of infiltrators. This seemed to bother Gar, who'd moaned and groaned about Moore's lack of appreciation for Mandalorian customs some more. Tiber had humored him for a few momens before simply stating he didn't care, and Gar had brought the conversation to instead talking about Moore himself.

"He didn't," Tiber informed. "The Jedi were in command then, remember? No need for Moore to be here."

Gar leaned deeper into his seat, looking deep in thought. "So Coruscant sent him, then. I suppose they really want to keep Mandalore pacified."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I would be looking for the _benefits_ of using our people, not seeing the cons and keeping them contained. Which, so happens, is what I'm going to do."

"And how are you going to do that, little brother," Tiber said sardonically.

The speeder approached the outer checkpoint, where AT-TP walker manned by a clone, as well as two more, stopped them. Gar motioned he would continue later as the clones approached.

One with the appearance of a lieutenant approached next to the speeder. "Identification?"

Tiber handed him his identification papers as Marshal, and the lieutenant scanned them with a coder before handing them back. "Move along."

"Colorful people, these clones," Gar grumbled.

"They can be colorful when they drink." Tiber eased the speeder to a civilian lot. The former museum stood several thousand meters in the air, the left wing still charred and damaged as construction crews ran over it. In the distance, beyond the military picket, some citizens stared up at it. Tiber grabbed Gar by the shoulder and steered him towards the double glass doors of the main entrance. "I'm going to introduce you fully to Moore; after how he stood up for you in the trial, I think he'll-"

His voice began to drown out as a new sound began to fill their ears; the sound of a _Kom'rk_ -class Starfighter, one of Mandalore's most notable production vessels-

"Those aren't normal engines," Gar breathed. "I've heard them before- get down!"

Tiber was already diving to the concrete; he recognized that sound as well. He put his helmet on and activated the sound dampeners as a trio of _Kom'rk_ 's slashed overhead and deployed a payload of concussion missiles into the former museum. With precisional strikes, they struck the already weakened sections that had been damaged in the fighting. Tiber frowned as another missile penetrated right into the throng of workers repairing the left wing. A plume of them disappeared behind fire and smoke while his ears slightly rattled with the sonic booms.

"They're coming back for another pass!" Gar was on his feet again, puling his blaster pistol. "You men, target the cockpit of the central fighter!"

But the clones who had been at the gate paid him no heed, and were blasting indiscriminately at the fighters as they wove around the skyscrapers of Sundari to veer back towards the museum. _They must have more missiles, or maybe even proton bombs_ , Tiber thought irritably. He began to run back to the speeder, keeping his weapons holstered. The shields of the _Kom'rk_ wouldn't be penetrated by any small arms, even if concentrated on the thinner rays about the cockpit. The clone's fire sprayed wildly, some going off to hit the skyscrapers and damaging them.

His younger brother fired at the central fighter, his face concealed under his crimson-gray mask, but his shouts of, _"COME ON!"_ gave Tiber a good idea of what he looked like beneath. He had to admit Gar could look ferocious when he wanted.

The _Kom'rk_ fighters, of course, shrugged off any fire they came under. True to Tiber's hypothesis, the central fighter deployed a cargo of a thick blob of perhaps four proton bombs, that sunk right into a smoking hole that had been opened by the missiles. A few seconds ticked by, and Tiber felt an ugly twist in his stomach. _What if I had gone in there earlier? Would I be able to move, or would I just be staring at the bomb, knowing I'd survived the first attack only for a guaranteed end?_

With a flare that threatened to overload the helmet's sensors, the proton bomb exploded and disintegrated the entire top right section of Moore's HQ. Gar, standing closer to the building, was knocked off his feet. Tiber steadied himself and watched as the three Mandalorian fighters stormed off out the dome. _Someone let them out, and in. We have moles in the security._

A load groan made him turn back to the building. The support struts, build during an era of peace, could not hold the brunt of two sieges on their fragile bodies. The groan began to turn into a series of loud cracks as the former resting place of Scilia began to crumple under the weight of it's own structure. With a final cry for aid, the support beams completely collapsed, and the museum crunched in on itself.

Killing any who might be inside.

"Well, Gar," Tiber said conversationally, jogging forward and slapping his brother on the shoulder, startling him. "Looks like you got rid of Moore faster than even you could've thought."

 **XXX**

 **Bo-Katan Kryze, Sundari Detention Facility**

A day later, Colonel Moore sat at the head of the table, his hands folded before him and staring across the longtable back at her, completely unharmed. He had been relaxing in his suite when the attack came, but acted with a rage much like if he had been inside anyways. Her council sat filled the seats on either side, including Almec, Tiber and Seals, Primir Wren, even old Aurelius Saxon. The rest of every major Mandalorian Clan Head was also seated, and the few House Heads that remained. Moore's command for their entire assembly was one that had not occurred for centuries; even _she_ had not been able to gather every significant Mandalorian for her inauguration. _A wonder what a few stormtroopers knocking on the doors of these people will do. I wonder if they know any one of them could wipe out an entire platoon._

Beside Moore was a tall, pale-faced but muscular young man who couldn't have been little more over the age of twenty. Bo-Katan eyedhim closely, but could not recall him having ever appeared at one of the meetings here. Yet, he wore the insignia of a Commander upon his spotless, but wrinkled white uniform. One sleeve was rolled up and the other at normal height, and Bo-Katan's lip curled with amusement. _Don't know how to put on a uniform yet, Commander?_

"So." Her attention switched back to Moore, who had released his fingers and held them flat on the table. His dark eyes continued to bore into her bright green ones, and she did not flinch. " _So._ "

"So?" Bo-Katan asked, her armor clanking against the metal seat as she leaned forward.

"I thought all dissenting factions to the Empire's rule had been eliminating, _Regent_."

She feigned offense. "Did I indeed say that, Colonel? I would've thought that dealing with any rebellious activity would have fallen under _your_ jurisdiction. Your entire presence is, after all, designated to ensuring loyalty to-"

"Do not seek to patronize me, Regent Kryze," Moore spat, his dark skin flushed. She decided she liked that feature. "I may control military forces on the planet, but the _planet_ is under your control-"

There was a light tapping of knuckles on the table, three-fold; Primir Wren signifying he wished to speak. Moore, however, gave him no need, or perhaps he did not understand what it meant. He pointed an accusing finger at Kryze. "You are going to get to the bottom of the attack on Imperial Headquarters, and bring the terrorists forward for an immediate public execution. The sooner they are dealt with, the faster their allies will wilt."

"Colonel, I would speak," Primir said softly.

Aurelius Saxon chuckled further down the table closer to Moore. "A little more assertive, Wren. The Colonel isn't adept to our customs yet."

"What is it then, Primir Wren?" Moore hissed.

"I would simply like to say I had the pleasure of speaking to Tiber and his... brother Gar prior to this meeting." Primir coughed slightly before saying Gar's name, and an uncomfortable ripple went through every Mandalorian present. Bo-Katan noted that the pale Commander watched this with a rather slack expression, almost as if he were bored, but his eyes swiveled about without pause. _Playing dumb._

Wren was still talking. "Both identified the three fighters the same as all other sensory data: three _Kom'rk_ -Class Starfighters of clear Mandalorian origin, piloted by more Mandalorians. A domestic attack to be sure- depending on your definition of 'domestic.'"

Moore waved a hand. "I don't _care_ about where the fighters came from, I care about how soon they'll be destroyed!"

"Explain, Clan Head Wren." Bo-Katan blinked in surprise. The Commander, despite his youthful age, spoke as if he had had his throat torn in battle. Rough, gravelly, but with the attempt of one trying to speak with a Core accent. Confused, she leaned back off the table.

Primir didn't seem disturbed at all, and nodded his head in thanks. "Tiber and Gar, former members of Death Watch, identified the central fighter as the _Gauntlet_ , the personal fighter of Pre Viszla when he was alive."

 _Vizsla_. Bo-Katan shivered; she had never come to hate the man, ever. It was his dedication to Mandalore that had given her hope in the first place, his willingness to die for tradition that had sparked her own desire to preserve it no matter what the cost. But he had been dead for many months now, and his name had very rarely come across her mind.

 _"Like he said... only the strongest shall rule."_

Dead, but not entirely forgotten it seemed. Under the table, her fists curled under the desk. _He would never have willingly wanted to attack fellow Mandalorians. Who do these people think they are-?_

"Regent Kryze?"

She blinked; all eyes of the table were on her. Tiber Saxon spoke again, sounding unsure. "Regent Kryze?"

"Yes, yes- can you repeat, Marshal?"

He gestured to the hologram capture that had appeared in the center of the table, showing the three fighters that had attacked the Scilia Museum. "I was asking for your confirmation it was the ship; my brother and I were rarely aboard it, while you were Vizsla's right hand. Perhaps you could identify it more closely?"

 _You just want to reduce the shadow of Death Watch on your shoulders, when you should be all the more proud of it._ It zoomed in upon the middle one, and she saw it; House Vizsla's insignia. It really was the _Gauntlet_ , being put to war once more.

"That is indeed Pre Vizsla's ship," she said loudly enough for the whole table to jolt upright. "And that means fellow Mandalorians are seeking to harm their own for their own gain. I will not allow this to stand."

"Then what are you going to do, Regent?" Moore demanded. He stood up after a moment, no doubt trying to size her up. She rolled her eyes, confounded by the man's stupidity. "You're the commander of all Imperial Forces of the planet, are you not? Work in conjunction with Marshal Tiber Saxon and stop the insurgency- I have, as you said, the rest of the planet to control."

Some chuckles went about the table; she saw with some confusion that Primir didn't seem to be laughing at all, looking almost a little disappointed.

Aurelius by contrast smiled more broadly than everyone else. "I have an ever broader suggestion; allow my son to bring down the insurgents himself! There is no need to bring the Empire in-"

"On the contrary, the insurgent's primary target was the Imperial Headquarters," the unnamed Commander interrupted roughly. "While I understand yo would prefer all honor of the kill go to the Saxon name, the Empire must get it's hands dirty as well."

Moore, who had looked relieved at the prospect of not having to get involved, slunk down into his seat along with a cross Aurelius. _Listening to a Commander who's under you?_ Bo-Katan wondered. _Who is he?_

"I will call this meeting over, then," Moore bit out. "Wonderful talking to all of you. You are dismissed."

Some growls emitted from the Clan and House heads at being released like common soldiers, but they exited without any more dysfunction. Primir tried to approach her, but she gave him a wink and grabbed Seals instead. At the same time, she noticed the pale Commander take a hold of Tiber Saxon's shoulder and steer him down a different exit. Primir frowned, then exited with the rest of the officials.

"Regent Kryze?" Seals asked, his bright blue eyes widened with question.

Her eyes glanced over the younger Saxon's shoulder, and saw the Commander looking back at her over Tiber's. "Yes, Councilor Seals," she said, looking back into the young man's face. "I have some questions about your brothers..."


	4. Chapter 4

**XXX**

 **Tiber Saxon, Sundari Detention Facility**

The white-faced Commander did not speak at first, and Tiber felt an odd chill crawl over his body underneath the armor, as if it wouldn't be able to protect him from the other. _How would he hurt me?_ he thought quickly to himself. _He may look robust, but he could not harm me._

"You are Marshal Tiber Saxon, yes?" the Commander asked, his throat rough as if dust was consistently lingering in it.

"I am, yes. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to. I don't recognize you, I'm afraid."

"The Empire took a terrible beating yesterday," the Commander continued as if Tiber had not asked. "Fifty-nine repair crewmen dead, fourty-two clones and stormtroopers dead, twenty-three Imperial worker personnel dead, five Imperial officers dead, and four Mandalorians dead." Each time he said dead, he raised a finger, counting off each list. His dark eyes studied the fingers with interest, and another uncomfortable feeling ran through Tiber.

He put the hand down. "Almost two-hundred dead, and that's not even counting the wounded. Moore looked relieved not only because he doesn't want to do the work, but now he's undermanned. He can't conscript troops from Mandalore because of Regent Kryze's Home Conscription Act- I'm sure Moore regrets signing that bill now."

Tiber gave a weak smile. To ensure Kryze's loyalty to the Empire, they had allowed her to sign in a number of bills, including one that forbade the Empire recruiting stormtroopers from Mandalore's populace, with the agreement the home militia would collaborate with the Empire fully. Tiber had never expected to actually have to work with the Empire, at least not after the example made of Clan Darvwar. Now he saw why this Commander was wanting to speak with him.

"Have you worked with Moore before?" the Commander asked. "I know he has only been stationed here a little over two weeks."

"I have, yes."

"And the assignment?"

Tiber kept his face expressionless. "Destroying a dissenting Clan."

The Commander didn't miss a beat. "And that did not disrupt your collaboration with the Empire at all, killing your people?"

"No."

"You may stop lying now, Marshal Saxon." The Commander pulled up his left sleeve which had been loose, then indicated his white uniform. "My position lies with the Imperial Security Bureau, basically Imperial Intelligence. I _know_ when I'm being lied to... and you do not want to disappoint my superiors."

"Are you _threatening_ me?" Tiber asked incredulously. This was not what he'd expected at all; besides, he was telling the truth! He had never liked Clan Darvwar-

The Commander shrugged. "Perhaps you are not telling yourself the truth, either," he suggested, again ignoring Tiber's demand. "However, by the end of this insurrection I wager you'll know for yourself what you feel. But that's what I really came to discuss. I need information regarding your forces. During the attack, the terrorists escaped through the dome's gate which was opened for them; someone in your forces is clearly working with them, if not large elements of people."

Tiber blinked, then cursed himself. _How could I forget something so important- that's_ my _department, I run Sundari's military!_ He gave himself a wry smile, thinking back to Gar's proposition to leading all of Mandalore. _Seems I have a way to go still._

"You're still learning such a grandiose position," the Commander said roughly, but with the tone of a nurturing confident. It was as if he was learning how to speak without sounding like a brute. "In time you will excel at it. Now, your analysis?"

Tiber explained the current state of the militia, which was mostly made up of former Death Watch, redeemed Shadow Collective, and volunteers. No actual draft had been implemented, namely because the war was over. Their vehicels were being produced again, with several _Kor'sk_ fighters in production, _Crusader_ -class gunships, and jetpacks and armor made of belkor alloy taken from the mines of the moon Concordia and Mandalore itself. The Commander wrote none of it down but nodded his head with each statistic, as if his own mind was a great data file storing everything said. When Tiber finished all he could recall, the Commander smiled and clapped the fellow on his armored shoulder. "Seems a little worn out; haven't you considered getting a new set? Certainly you could get one with normal production resumed."

"I could," Tiber agreed, feeling his voice draw on irritation. "But it is our custom to wear the armor passed down to us; this set in particular belongs to one of Clan Saxon's founding members. It's significance to my family is very high."

"But not to you." The Commander smiled; it was not a question."

"Not as important to me, no."

"I suppose it becomes a question of when traditions lead to harm, rather than success," the Commander mused, almost as if to himself. The glossed fingers rubbed the freshly shaved chin. "But I suppose this is for you and your people to decide, no? It's been a pleasure speaking with you." He extended his other hand, and Tiber shook it. The Commander gave a small nod and made to leave the now emptied room-"

"Wait, Commander, if you would."

"Yes?"

Tiber's mouth worked into a half-grin, half-grimace. _You owe me for this, Gar._ "My brother, Gar Saxon," he said stoutly. "Like myself, he has extensive combat history. The Mandalorians respect him as one of their own, and if these insurgents are anything to do with the former Death Watch or Shadow Collective, his knowledge will be useful."

"So you're asking for permission to bring him into the militia? You don't need me for that." But the other still didn't move, knowing that that wasn't what Tiber wanted.

 _Blast you, Gar._ "I meant more... making him deputy Marshal. Of course, if I were to bring it up to Regent Kryze or Colonel Moore they would assume automatic bias since he's not only of my clan, but my brother..."

The Commander tilted his head. "Tell me, do you think he would actually do a good job, or are they right in assuming bias?"

He thought of Gar's history, serving with Vizsla and Maul, of his words in the airspeeder, his desire to help Mandalore, and the plan he had revealed to his older brother. "I think he has a plan to do what's best for Mandalore and the Empire, Commander," Tiber grunted, staring the other down and trying not to feel the same chill run up his spine. _There's something about him that's not the cultured man he's presenting. Almost... feral._

"Well, if this is the case, I will strongly suggest to both Moore and Kryze they allow Gar Saxon to serve as your Deputy Marshal. We'll see if he performs adequately."

Tiber felt a rush of relief. "Thank you, Commander."

"We'll see how much you have to thank me for," the other allowed curtly, then exited the room, the beginnings of a song being hummed from within his hoarse throat.

 **XXX**

 **Gar Saxon, Clan Saxon Household**

The hyperrail ride back to the Saxon dome was silent, grim, and tense. Gar fought the urge to look at his father, standing silently at the front end of the car, not having so much as glanced at his son. It was as if the very sight of looking upon Gar would insult his pride.

 _I need his advice on the plan,_ he thought heatedly. _I need the support and funds from our Clan if I'm going to be able to finance the later stages._

Eventually, however, he could not stand the silence anymore. Breaking away from the throng of fellow Clan Saxon warriors who had been trying small talk and congratulations on his freedom, he made his way to the hyperrail's bow, past the two clone guards who did not stir as he brushed past them.

As he neared, Aurelius Saxon gave a half-sigh, half-laugh. "I knew you would be too weak to resist coming to me."

"Weak?" Gar demanded. "Weak how? You are the Clan Head and my Father, I need to-"

"As far as I am concerned, you are a member of Clan Saxon only in name," the older man interrupted harshly, turning to face his now silenced son. "You had the audacity to _live_? Your death would have been a smear cleansed from our honorable Clan's name, and a burden lifted off my shoulders! I don't know what happened in that trial, but you and I both now you were destined to be executed." He snorted contemptuously, looking in his son's direction but not into his eyes, as if he were not worth even the gaze. "Destined to be a failure."

"Father, I have-"

"You have _nothing_ to offer us. By Mandalorian custom I must offer you my roof as a member of our Clan name, but expect nothing more of me."

Anger threatened to overwhelm his respect. "If you would just listen-"

"I listened to you before, and look where that got our Clan! It is a wonder Bo-Katan invited myself to represent Clan Saxon in her little emergency meeting with the _Imperials_." He spat on the clean metal plating as he said the latter word. "They should not be apart of this; apart of our culture, propagating the ancient history of Scilia for their own. It makes me sick. Almost as sick as watching that fool Primir Wren weasel his way into Kryze's good books- I can tell she favors that ungrateful slime over us!"

His gloved hand suddenly curled and slammed into Gar's cheek, and the other was so surprised by the old man's speed that he took it full force. He stumbled back and hit the inner rail of the car that would've sent him to the mechanic room. "And I wonder who I have to thank for putting us in such a dishonorable position, hmm?" Aurelius leered. "Get out of here, boy. I have nothing more to say to you."

 _I came here to talk to YOU about restoring our HONOR!_ He forced the fury down, resisted the urge to leap for his Father's now turned back and shove him over the edge of the hyperrail car. He unclenched, clenched his hands, then silently stalked back towards the rest of the Saxon people.

He did not look back.

 **XXX**

He waited two hours in the shadows of the hyperrail station for it to return to Sundari to collect Tiber and Seals. Both had missed coming back with the rest of the Saxons, and Gar needed to discuss their Father's reaction. The car pulled in, and Gar gave a disinterested nod of greeting to the same two clone guards. To his mild surprise, they nodded back. _Perhaps they have some color after all,_ he thought dimly.

Tiber walked down the gangplank; Seals was nowhere in sight. He walked with his helmet on, apparently not seeing Gar. Gar stepped forward and the other stopped. "Ah, enjoy the wait?"

"Where's Seals?" Gar grunted.

His older brother shrugged. "Am I his keeper? He stayed back at Sundari for all I know or care."

"So what kept you?" Gar said insistently. "Were you backchecked or something?"

"No- I was apart of Kryze's emergency meeting along with Seals, Father, and the rest of the Clan Heads and Council members. Kryze has tasked me with stopping the rogue Mandalorians, with Moore's assistance."

Gar nodded; he had heard all this from the mouths of the other Clan Saxon members, including Moore's disappointing survival. "But this doesn't explain why you missed returning home with the rest of us; so what kept you?"

"I met a new Imperial, sent by the Imperial Security Bureau; the ISB, as he called it."

"ISB?" Gar's lip curled unpleasantly. "These Imperials really like playing these words games, don't they? Never up front."

Tiber began to walk, and Gar followed as the other led them in direction of the long way home, through the Tombs. The graveyard contained every Clan Saxon member ever killed, a tradition started with good intentions/ But as the ceaseless wars of Mandalore had gone on, the graveyard had grown far too large. Starting two hundred years ago, there had been no choice but to start putting newer bodies in graves where the bodies had decomposed to the point of nonexistence. As a child they had been tasked with learning the names of their direct ancestors; Gar could remember spending hours trying to learn the histories etched into the tablets of beskar and marble. Seals had gone beyond that, learning many more names and histories; Tiber had never tried, earning their Father's very brief disapproval before Tiber proved himself a great warrior anyway.

His older brother finally replied. "They're some sort of Intelligence agency. But if they're all like this man, I have to say I have no interest in ever dealing with them."

"How so? What's his name, we'll back check him."

Tiber barked a laugh. "No name- never gave one, not in the Conference, nor when he took me aside." He turned to at his brother, the helmet hiding the expression beneath. "There's something _wrong_ about the man, he is like a beast contained in a human form. Moore also seems subservient to him; the newcomer is only a Commander, yet Moore appears cowed. I don't understand it. It's all very mysterious."

They walked in silence, Gar absentmindedly observing some of the gravestones and recognizing a few of the names. _Is the new Imperial going to be a new barrier between the Empire and Mandalore? I didn't take an additional liaison officer getting involved-_

"Some good news _did_ come from the conversation, though." Tiber's voice went smug. "I spoke to the Commander about gaining you a position in Mandalore's government."

They both stopped amongst the tombstones. "And?" Gar asked expectantly, looking into the blank visor.

Tiber chuckled. "The Commander will speak to Kryze and Moore about making you my Deputy Marshal. You'll be able to help pin down the rogue Mandalorians with your big brother, hmm?"

Gar's face twisted into a smile, even though deep down he felt a deep resentment for both his older brother and this new Commander. _You know you'll get all the credit for anything I accomplish as your Deputy. You bought into the plan, but only the parts that are going to aid you._ "Sounds like a big improvement," Gar forced out, turning away and beginning to walk, their footsteps smacking upon the cobblestone path. "The sooner those rogue Mandalorians are brought down, the bigger the reward will be for Clan Saxon- and ourselves."

"Oh, yes. We'll begin our planning in the morning, shall we?"

They were nearing the main Household, and they stopped right before the doors where Tiber had ushered in Gar only the day before to be punished by their Father. "Until tomorrow morning," Gar said evenly. "Good night, brother."

"Good night." Tiber entered first without any second glance, pushing them open and letting them close behind. Gar held his helmet tightly in his hands, feeling his fingers tense and grow painful holding the nearly indestructible metal so hard. _I suppose I was wrong on one account,_ he thought darkly. _It's not_ only _the new Commander I have to worry about- it's you, too, brother._


	5. Chapter 5

**Bo-Katan Kryze, Sundari Spaceport**

 **XXX**

"Regent Kryze, a moment if I may."

She stopped, her guards forming a natural screen-wing to cover her if the asker proved hostile. However, she already recognized the unique tone of the other and turned without hesitation. "Yes, Commander...?"

The unnamed Commander shrugged. "I had no idea names were such an important concept to the people of Mandalore."

Bo-Katan cocked an orange eyebrow, having decided to only don her armor today, no helmet. "I think names are important to every culture of the galaxy, they're apart of who we are. Especially in the Core systems."

The other gave a wry smile that made her fake one fade. "A good thing I'm not from the Core, then. Now, the reason why I stopped you here before you began your journey to Concord Dawn..."

Keeping her face expressionless was a remarkable feat; she had told no one, not even Moore, she was going to Concord Dawn. Fenn Rau had contacted her saying two of his _Kom'rk_ fighters were missing and asking for her presence during a surprise inspection. This, however, would also be a good test of the spaceport authorities; if there was a leak in their numbers, then the people at Concord Dawn's hangars would not be surprised by their arrival. Only Fenn Rau and Primir -who had suggested perhaps she leave the visit for another, randomized day- knew. She had had to deny; if they did someone find out, all evidence would be gone when she arrived...

But if the Commander knew, who else did? All evidence could very well be gone when she arrived now. Still, she kept calm. "I didn't know I had made my brief journey public," she said with a hint of question.

"You haven't," he assured her. "But I do have contacts as apart of the Bureau. You'll be pleased to know I am not questioning your journey, however. I instead wanted to ask why you rejected my proposal of Gar Saxon becoming Tiber Saxon's Deputy Marshal."

She frowned. _Why do you care?_ "The man was only just released from trial," she said instead. "He has yet to prove loyalty to Mandalore again-"

"Do you believe him to be with the renegade party?" the Commander asked, his rough voice suddenly amplified tenfold. The guards stirred ever so slightly.

"No," she said after a moment. "I simply-"

"Then you will place him as Tiber's Deputy Marshal?" the Commander said with a tight smile.

Bo-Katan stepped toward the Commander, who did not move. "Do not seek you can dictate my actions because you're from _Imperial Intelligence_ ," she said into his face, her green eyes glaring into his dark ones. His pale complexion moved into a thin smile and the eyes creased, but she did not back down. _"I_ will decide what is best for Mandalore, not an outsider. I tolerate enough 'suggestion' from Colonel Moore, and I do not need another _Imperial_ giving his voice. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," the other said softly. "Thank you for your time, Regent Kryze." He stepped sideways, still inches from her face, then brushed past. "And good luck on your... mission." His shoulder bumped ever so slightly against hers, but he mine as well have punched her. She gave a tilt of the head to her guards, then the three ascended the ship.

As the boarding ramp closed behind her, she sighed and slunk into one of the luxury seats. _Probably not the best way to have a first one on one talk with a new high-ranking Imperial. But the Empire can't just keep throwing them at Mandalore and expect me to bow to them!_

 _Maybe that's what they want._ She rubbed her hand over her face, trying to brush away the dark thought. However, it seemed to grow more promiment. _Maybe they want Mandalore to bend, to keep bending to more Imperial officials... until its lips are touching the ground._

She opened her eyes and looked next to her to see her helmet that had belonged to an ancestor of the Kryze clan sat facing her, as if in approval. She smiled down at it, then closed her eyes. _It's simple: I just won't allow them to make us bow any further._

 **XXX**

 **Kryze, Concord Dawn**

The port authorities were dressed in cloth uniform, their faces visible for her and her guards- and showing her the anxiety of knowing the regent of Mandalore was coming to visit. _Someone tipped them off,_ she grimaced behind her own helmet, walking down the gangplank to the port commander. Behind them, standing by a hovercar, Fenn Rau stood, helmet off, with two of his other Protectors.

"Regent Kryze, we didn't know you were coming!" the port's commander stammered, lying through his pearly teeth. To Kryze's dismay, his hair had been cut to resemble the short-shaved hair Pre Vizsla had popularized, the head of a warrior. Two of the three other officials with him wore the same.

"You must have missed the memo," she said digitally. "I've come to speak to Governor Syclin about potential security breaches leading to the attack on Mandalore.."

The port commander's face colored slightly and eyes widened a little; the Governor, it seemed, wasn't involved in whatever conspiracy was going on. As it was, visiting him was complete ruse; Syclin had been trusted by Satine to rule, and her dead sister's word was good enough for her. "I will call a shuttle immediately, Regent," the port commander said stoutly, gesturing to one of the same-haired officials. "Ruber, call a government speeder and-"

"My ride is already here, commander," she interrupted, brushing past his unarmored shoulder and making him stumble slightly. "I have arranged transport with the Protectors."

"O-oh, Regent I insist," the commander stuttered again from behind. "It will take minutes to call it in-"

She waved a hand carelessly behind her, and she saw Fenn Rau was already smiling as she approached. "What a surprise, Regent," he said with mock shock. "I had no idea you were coming, would you like a ride?"

"Are your friends trustable?" she asked instead. nodding her head to the other two Protectors.

His face grew serious as he stepped aside to allow her and her guards to enter the hovercar. "All my Protectors are trustworthy, as are all Mandalorians."

Bo-Katan looked back at the port commander, who was distantly looking over as the hovercar began to leave the spaceport. "Not all of them," she said softly, sadly. It made her heart break to imagine people of the Mandalorian system were still not loyal to her, who loved Mandalore more than anything-

"Don't talk like that," Rau said roughly. "Ruber, get us moving to our main hangar."

"Yes, sir."The hovercar shot forward, a speedy contraption that made Kryze silently praise the strength of Mandal Motors, the ship building company that encompassed the entire system. In no time at all they neared a large airfield with multiple _Kor'sk_ Starfighters, with their pilots and other Mandalorians standing around talking amongst themselves, helmets off and comfortable under the midday light.

A sort of warmth filled her. _This is how it's meant to be_ , she thought to herself. _Mandalorians amongst each other and comfortable with one another. Whether it's here, or Krownest, or Mandalore itself._ The warmth evaporated as she saw them approach the main gate. _The_ _infighting needs to end... no more of it... we've had too many years of it, how much more can we take?_

Fenn Rau had been silent the entire trip, sometimes looking at her, sometimes out at their surroundings. His helmet was sat squarely in his lap as he sat next to her in the middle row of seats, her two guards behind. Now, however, he placed a hand on her shoulder, and she looked over to him. He gave a reassuring smile. "Ruber, take us further. Site G."

"Site G, sir?" the Protector driving asked, his voice even behind the helmet sounding suddenly off.

She looked at the back of the Protector's head, a quiet dread filling her. _Please, I didn't want to prove him wrong so soon, so literally..._

Rau seemed unperturbed. "To Site G, yes," he said more firmly. "Full speed."

She saw the Protector's hands tighten on the steering wheel, knowing what was coming but remaining seated, immobile, desperately hoping the man wouldn't make her fears come true.

"Yes, sir." The Protector's hands jerked on the controls without any signal. This time, she was ready and leaped free of the speeder's seat, crashing down onto the pavement. The landspeeder's momentum kept it coming despite the sudden turn, and the vehicle suddenly turned into a tumbling storm of screaming and crashing metal. She saw her two guards and Fenn Rau had managed to throw themselves free, but the second Protector was still inside, now apart of the tumbling metal.

The rogue Protector had also gotten free, and was now unsteadily getting to his feet. Bo-Katan felt a cold fury burrow up inside her and drew one of her pistols. She was still dizzy from her jump, however, and her shots went wide and unfocused. The Protector activated his jetpack and took to the skies, not firing back.

"What... I-I don't understand," Fenn Rau cried, his face bloodied. His helmet had remained in the crash, and she saw pale shock beneath the shortened orange hair. "He was my second-in-command, we fought in the Clone Wars together! It doesn't make sense-"

"It doesn't have to," she snapped, gesturing to her two guards with a hand sign. Recovered and now aware she was unharmed, they hefted their rifles. "Pursue the traitor, but do not engage," she ordered. "Wait for Rau and myself to catch up."

"Understood," the said in unison, their hands sweeping across their wrist controls. Their jetpacks flared to life and they also rose into the sky, chasing in pursuit of the now distant traitorous Protector.

Leaving Rau standing, she ran over to the barely recognizable hunk of metal that was the landspeeder, lying on its back like a dead animal. She crawled beneath it, her helmet filtering out the spilled toxic gases from within it. She saw the crumpled body of the second Protector, who's armor looked miraculously unharmed. However, she had not come to recover him. She spotted Rau's sapphire-colored helmet wedged between the crisped middle seats and wrenched it free. _Never forget your history_ , she recalled from her youth. _It's history is what gives you strength._

She walked over to Rau and thrust the helmet in his hands. "We don't have time to question why your Protector did what he did right now," she said flatly. "However, he's probably running back to his other little friends, who might even know be stealing more ships for their revolt."

"I don't get it," Rau said softly, and deep down she longed to comfort him with kind words. _You're not Satine_ , she reminded herself sharply. _And Satine is_ not _needed in this situation._

"Put on that helmet, Rau," she snapped. "We can get all the answers we need when we capture all of them."

That seemed to give the young man strength, his youthful face hardened, seemingly aging him. The helmet slipped over his features, the T-visor looking strangely aggressive. "I'm right behind you, Regent Kryze," he said stoutly.

She nodded once and activated her jetpack, Rau following suit. They took to the air, leaving the dead Protector and the wrecked landspeeder behind. She took out her other blaster pistol, feeling comfort in the familiar weight in both her hands, like the old days. Rau had pulled out a custom MP-BP 15, a rifle-lookalike that was still classified as a blaster pistol, making it al the more intimidating.

With her helmet's zoom, she found her two guards having taken cover behind a storage pod out on an utterly empty field, barren of both craft and people. An older model of the refined hangar buildings sat alone, it's large metal doors still looking power, reinforced, and closed. _Away from patrols and normal soldier routes,_ she thought, her fears confirmed. _They're trying to take the craft inside._

Rau and Kryze landed next to the two. "He went inside, ma'am," one of the guards reported. "The main hangar doors are opened just enough for one person to slip inside."

She peered around, and saw indeed the great metal doors had been opened an almost invisible crack, where a glimpse of darkness was all that could be seen.

"We head through there, we get bottlenecked," Rau said needlessly.

"How old is this structure, Rau?" she questioned.

"Since before the Clone War. Why?"

She looked to her guards. "Breach and clear on the corner. Shoot to stun."

Behind her, Rau shook his head. "I'm killing any Protector I see. These- these _traitors_ -"

"And where will we get our answers from then?" she replied curtly. "Shoot to stun if you're close, to wound from distance."

They ran around the pod across the open airfield, her eyes locked on the gap in the metal doors. She couldn't tell if someone was watching them, but something told me they weren't just going to ignore the Regent of Mandalore outside their doorstep. _That's right, wonder what we're doing. We're about to show you how real Mandalorians should act._

Without pause, her two guards stopped at the corner of the hangar and bent down, exposing the rocket's armed to their jetpacks. Their hands danced across their controls, and the rockets fired off with a high-pitched whistle. Her helmet dampened the sound, and only barely processed them meeting the structure's worn down corner, burning it away.

"Shoot to stun or wound!" she shouted again and charged forward towards the musky smoke and flying shrapnel. Three yellow bolts lanced out, going wide. She ducked her head, fired back blindly. She and Rau entered the smoke while her two guards took to the air and flew in ahead, their rifles spouting their own energy bursts.

They burst from within the smoke, and within the few seconds before she could duck behind a stack of unmarked crates, she got a glimpse of how bad the situation was. There were some twenty odd people inside the large hangar, loading more similar crates she was taking cover behind onto four older-looking models of _Kor'sk_ fighters. Most were dressed in different colored Mandalorian combat armor of various clans, while a few others were in port uniforms, while still others bore the attire of mechanics.

All but the mechanics were armed. A cold resolve filled her, and she looked up over the crates, brandishing her twin pistols. "How dare you steal from Mandalore!" she shouted, pulling the triggers and shooting down one of the mechanics.

"You are not Mandalore!" one of them shouted, and the room turned into absolute thunderstorm of blasts. To their credit, the ones shooting at her gave the high-whines of stun shots, but her guards that were zooming nonstop throughout the room were being shot at with the intent to kill. They were good; they would survive, as long as they could finish the fight quick.

 _Against twenty? Oh that's easy,_ she thought with frustration. More stun blasts slammed into the crate, chipping away its metal exterior. Rau fired back with his rifle and she heard a muffled yell, showing he'd hit at least one more.

She leaned up again, trying to gauge her surroundings more closely. The mechanics were running into the ships, as were the port officials. One of the crates on the ramps was shoved off as armored Mandalorians also took their ships, fighting a retreating gesture- they were trying to make off with the ships without the rest of their supply, now that their ruse was up-

A blue blast slammed right in front of her, missing her by inches, and she fell back behind the crate. "At least they're shooting to stun!" Rau said wildly to her, having also ducked back. "Don't suppose you have any more wonderful ideas!"

Their was a groaning, metallic noise that blotted out any reply she could've made; the hangar doors were beginning to open fully. "Only one," she called back. "Any explosives you got, try and hit the door's gears-!"

A crashing blow hit her in the head, and for a moment she thought someone had finally blasted her. But no, a blunt object had hit her- and not just any. Dazed, she scrambled away towards Rau, away from the armored Mandalorian who had physically punched her.

And not just any Mandalorian; the traitor from the landspeeder, the one Fenn Rau had called Ruber.

"Are you insane?" she shouted to him; she noticed the stun blasts had stopped coming, saw that the remaining rogue Mandalorians had fled into their ships. Her two guards had landed on the roof of the furthest ship, and were trying to blast open the cockpit and kill the pilots.

"No, I've just been wanting to do this for a few weeks now!" He jabbed again, and she had to wonder his intent of hitting her through the armor when she noticed that he was not simply wearing the usual gloves; they were power gauntlets, archaic tools made early in Mandalore's history layered with malleable beskar and powered up to act as if the victim was wearing no protection.

His jab struck her in the stomach, and she felt the weight of the blow. Her pistols slipped into their holsters and she put her hands behind his helmet and drew it down into her raising knee. The traitor grunted, but he then slammed his curled fists into her sides, making her feel as if she had just smashed by a trash compacter.

She yielded, reflexively clutching her sides. The man was massive even by Mandalorian standards, towering at well over seven feet. She swept his leg under his, but he simply jumped it, then stamped his own foot down on her ankle. His boot fortunately did not have the same power, and she took the blow with pride and backed away from him. She climbed to her feet, and the man laughed. "You fight well," he praised. "I was the recreational boxing champ on Concord Dawn."

"Was," she said mockingly. The hum of the engines from the fighters was beginning to grow louder. They would escape if she didn't stop playing with this fool-

He nodded. "Now I fight for Mandalore!" He jabbed at her again, almost tauntingly. She blocked and pushed his it away and punched back, but he stood there and took the blow, his head tilting back with the impact. Her hand flared with pain, and before she could pull it back his own right hand curled around and struck her across the face. Her jaw ached, but she forced herself to remain standing.

" _I_ serve Mandalore," she shot back. "You're _fighting_ Mandalore!"

"Anyone who collaborates with the Empire is fighting Mandalore! You've allowed our people to sink in with the muck of a faraway government- our values, our customs, everything is at stake." He waved a hand carelessly around him. "All we do will rid ourselves of the outsiders."

For a long moment, she felt the ridiculous desire to tell the man she did not care for the Empire either, that she longed for the day they would leave Mandalore, that she was doing all she could to show they didn't need an interfering influence in their system-

A boom made the man's helmet look away, and she reflexively turned. She had wondered why Rau had not bothered to help her, and now she saw why. The twin explosions of two thermal detonators on the right metal door's gear system had been blown to smithereens. It stopped opening, cut off the nearest two fighter's escape.

The door furthest, however, was still opening. Her guards finally activated their jetpacks and abandoned their attempt to blast open the _Kor'sk_ 's cockpit and had now gone to their trapped fighter's ramp, intent on bringing it and its passengers down.

"If you care about Mandalore, you'd step down!" the man said behind her, to his credit not attacking while her back was turned. She whirled back around and shot back, "I am _serving_ Mandalore with everything I have!"

"Then it's not enough, or you're lying," he replied flatly. "I enjoyed our little exchange, but it's not enough for me. We'll meet in customary battle again, Regent."

He activated his jetpack, but Bo-Katan wasn't fine with that. "You're not getting away!" she shouted, pulling her blaster.

"You're very fortunate we were told not to kill you!" he called back, pulling out his rifle and letting loose a series of stun blasts. They hammered around her, one spiking her arm. She felt her body suddenly grow tired, sluggish, but the old armor warded off unconsciousness. her hand tightened on the trigger sluggishly, her shots going wide. She saw the ramp lower on the nearest fighter and the traitor go inside. Rau was blasting at him, shouting, "RUBER! _RUBER! DON'T RUN, RUBER!"_

Her hand went to her wrist and activated the commlink embedded it. "Shut down the spaceport," she slurred into it, her head pounding. "Let no craft exit the planet-"

"We're a step ahead of you, Regent Kryze," a strangely familiar, gloating voice said to her. But she could not place it, and she could only hope whoever was speakin was right. The two _Kor'sk_ fighters elevated and began to exit out the hangar-

A massive cannonade of green light and noise brought down the second rogue fighter the moment its nose exited the building, bringing it crashing entirely to the ground in smoke and flames. Ruber's fighter, however, abandoned all precaution and activated its engines full speed. Whatever was outside, it was not keen to meet it, and it shot away out of her line of sight and prediction.

"Kryze- Kryze!" Fenn Rau was kneeling beside her. "Did he shoot you, are you hurt?"

"Hit me with a stun blast in the arm," she gurgled, struggling to her feet with Rau holding her. "What- what's outside?"

He laughed. "I know I told you not to tell anyone out here, but whoever you did tell- well, I'm not mad about it, I'll tell you."

Rau helped her to look outside the hangar. Two old Republic LAAT gunships were hovering, their laser cannons powering down from having smashed the front of the fleeing _Kor'sk_ transport. A duo of V-wings were chasing the fading speck of Ruber's escaping fighter. And even still, two newer-model Imperial Troop Gunships were landing, their doors opening and spilling squadrons of clone soldiers and a handful of stormtroopers out onto the airfield. They rushed past and went for the trapped fighters, helping her guards who had breached the furthest ship.

But still, one of the transports held two more occupants, and she recognized the one who had spoken. Beneath her helmet, her lips curled into an ungrateful sneer despite the sluggishness she felt. "How did I guess you would somehow still find me out here?"

"Well don't say thank you all at once," Gar Saxon said, his broad smile not missing a beat. "Or better yet, save it for when we've rounded up the rest of the traitors and finished your job."


End file.
